Arch-Conspirator(28)

“They seem peaceful enough.”

“They’re not,” I said sharply, and I glared at him. “For years you have instructed them to value not the minds of people who bear children but their bodies. Now you seek to dispose of one because she cares for her brother—”

“Because she defied me—”

“They do not see that part! They see only that you are careless with a precious resource. That you seek obedience without rational thought!”

“Obedience,” he said, and he put his hand on my elbow and drew me closer. “Obedience is essential to our survival.”

I tensed. In all our years, Kreon had never hurt me, never grabbed me. This was not like him.

“That may be,” I said, and I pulled my arm free. “But you cannot force people to see the world your way.”

I saw Haemon standing near the platform. He crouched down beside it, so that for a moment I thought he was tying his shoelace. But no—he was looking at something beneath it, something I couldn’t see. He straightened, and looked up at the balcony where we stood. I could not read his expression from here. But I saw things clearly; I always had.

“I must go speak with our son,” I said.



* * *



Walking through the crowd, my suspicions were confirmed. There was a buoyancy to crowds that waited in eager anticipation. It was absent here. The tension here was that of a finger on a trigger, a wire pulled tight enough to snap. A soldier escorted me across the square, but shoulders still bumped me from all angles. Voices chased me all the way to where Haemon stood, waiting for us on the platform. His face was drawn. When he set a hand on my shoulder to steady me as he kissed my cheek, it was shaking. I frowned up at him.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” I said. “But if it’s making you look this sick, I’m sure you don’t want to do it.”

“My father is about to kill my betrothed,” he said. “How else am I supposed to look?”

I was not used to words failing me. But this was an extraordinary situation. I pursed my lips and by that time, Kreon was making his way through the crowd.

He was flanked by soldiers, but the simmer of the crowd reached a boil when he was among them. People edged closer, pressing against the men that protected my husband. One man threw himself at Kreon, and a soldier’s retaliation was swift. He brought the butt of his gun down on the side of the man’s head. The man collapsed into the crowd, disappearing. Kreon made it to the platform as the crowd roared. I saw the injured man resurface with a red streak of blood on his face.

The shouts were deafening. The soldiers held their weapons crosswise, the rifles becoming a barrier. Kreon’s eyes were too wide, the whites showing, as he looked back at the Trireme. He took the radio communicator from his belt and held it up to his mouth. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I reached for him. His arm felt like steel beneath my fingers.

Our eyes met.

“If you do this,” I said to him, “they will revolt.”

The platform beneath the Trireme roared to life. A flame ignited beneath the ship. Smoke curled over its base. At the sight of fire, the crowd erupted. The wall of sound was like a physical thing; it pushed me into Kreon.

“You’re right,” he said to me.

It was as if my body had turned to water. Weak with relief, I clung to him. I smiled up at him and, for a moment, he appeared to me just as he had all those years ago, awkward and sweet.

It would be all right, it would—

A man broke through the barrier of soldiers and barreled toward us. Kreon turned to shield me, and the radio communicator flew out of his hand. It bounced on the platform and broke in half.

We both stared at it. I dove for the pieces, hoping it was just that the battery had fallen out, but it was split in half at its seam, the parts spread over the platform.

“Mom!” Haemon said. “Mom, you have to get out of here!”

I looked up at Kreon, who was staring with horror at the Trireme. I stood, leaving the radio communicator on the ground, and shoved him toward the edge of the hill. He stumbled off the platform, just barely keeping his balance.

“Go down there!” I shouted. “Go!”

Kreon took off running. I hadn’t seen him run like that in a long time. He tumbled down the slope as the crowd broke through the barrier. I heard a gunshot. Haemon grabbed me around the waist and hauled me off the platform, his hand on my head to keep it down. An elbow caught me in the cheek.

“Run!” Haemon screamed.

And then the platform exploded.

The sound—the sound, so loud it filled my head and rattled my teeth. The force threw us both forward, into a woman with gray, curly hair and a man wearing a bandana around his head to catch his sweat. Together, Haemon and I tumbled to the ground. Someone fell on top of me, their knees digging into my legs. I hit my head on the pavement, and the spray of shrapnel was sharp, stinging my shoulders and back.

I lifted my head just in time to see a ball of light expanding around the base of the Trireme.

Kreon hadn’t made it in time. The ship was launching.

Haemon screamed. I couldn’t hear him—everything was muffled—but I saw the anguish in his face, like kindling split by an axe. He stumbled to his feet, over the wreckage, to the edge of the hill. He must have known it was too late to do anything. I tried to go after him, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. A hand closed around my arm, a soldier pulling me up. I recognized him—Nikias, head of Kreon’s guard. He spoke to me, and I watched his mouth moving but couldn’t make out the words.